The Forgotten
by Small Chemist
Summary: Marty can’t keep up this charade for long. He doesn’t know his family anymore, and it’s only a matter of time before they figure out his secret. It's been one week since Marty’s time travels, and already his family is falling apart. Marty's POV.
1. The Forgotten

Summary: Marty can't keep up this charade for long. He doesn't know his family anymore, and it's only a matter of time before they figure out his secret. Its been one week since Marty's time travels, and already his family is falling apart. First Person, Marty's POV.

Authors Notes: The Forgotten takes place one week after the ending of Back to the Future I. Please disregard Bttf II and III, as it doesn't make sense to include them in this fiction.

**The Forgotten**

Saturday, November 2nd, 1985

Doc's Garage

11:24 A.M.

"They _know,_" I say as I kick up my skateboard. "I can just tell they do. They look at me sometimes, and say things like 'Gosh Marty, you know you really remind me of someone.' And then they just wait and stare at me until I can fill in the blanks."

"Marty, that's nonsense. Your parents know nothing." Doc says from somewhere beneath the car. I sit on the pavement beside Doc's feet.

"Well see, that's what I want to think." I admit hopelessly, "But then I look into their eyes and there's something there. It's like they already know and are just waiting for me to confirm it." Doc fiddles around with something and then asks for a wrench.

"You are listening, right?" I hand him the wrench, but instead of taking it Doc rolls out from under the car and sits up to look at me.

"Marty, I always listen." He says, and looks mildly disappointed.

"Yeah. Um. Yeah I know you do." I say quickly. He gives me a look. That kind of all-knowing look Doc has intensified by his wild hair and hard gaze.

"Marty, are you sure you just don't want them to know?" I glance away.

"No. Maybe. I don't know." Sometimes even I don't know why Doc puts up with me. I've got to give him credit though. He doesn't sigh, just puts a hand on my shoulder

"Look at me." He says gently. Reluctantly I glance up. He's smiling. "You've been through a lot, Marty. I can understand if you'd want to share this adventure with your parents. You are only seventeen." I must have frowned, because Doc chuckles and adds, "And I know you think you're an adult Marty, but really you're still just a baby to most people." I raise my eyebrows at this, giving him the best "Don't mess with Marty Mcfly" look I can manage. He treats it as if I were a puppy growling.

"Right, well…" I say, and look away again. Doc takes the wrench, and dives back under the Delorean. "I can't tell them. It's settled." I stand up, dropping my skateboard back to the ground.

"It's just too risky, Marty. You might end up causing an interruption in the space-time continu—"

"Been there, done that." I say with a smirk. "Catch ya later, Doc." He waves a hand at me from underneath the car before I speed off towards home.

It was only a ten-minute journey since I was able to car surf on the way back, but something seems strange as I enter. Linda and Dave aren't home, and Mom and Dad aren't reading in the living room like usual. There are noises coming from my bedroom, and I'm a little hesitant to go in there. I approach the door quietly. It's slightly opened, and I see mom sitting on my bed. She's crying. Why is she crying?

"Oh Marty." She says, and gives the pillow she's holding a squeeze. "Oh Marty I'm so, so sorry." I almost think she knows I'm there, but her eyes are closed and she buries her head in the pillow. "So sorry." She continues to sob, until it becomes a chant. I back away slowly from the door, careful not to step on the creaky panels in the floor.

"Marty?" I jump, slamming my head into the wall behind me. "Woah, easy there it's just me." I turn my head to the left, seeing a few stars dance in front of my father's face.

"Oh. Hi Dad." I mutter. I sure would make one hellova spy. Dad looks at me with some concern, and I remember that he's not the father I once knew.

"You alright there, son?" I rub my head, but it doesn't seem to help much.

"Yeah. Sure. Fine." God, I'm practically _squeak_ing. Dad doesn't seem too convinced. The other George Mcfly might not have cared so much. "It's just um, Mom." I say, and gesture helplessly at my door. To my surprise, Dad sighs.

"Yes, she's been doing that a lot." He says softly, and glances towards my room with hopeless eyes. "I've tried to speak with her about it, but she won't talk to me." I blink, wondering what the hell I've done now.

"Wait, so what'd I do?" I ask, and Dad doesn't look at me.

"I'm going to go make some tea." He finally says, and starts towards the kitchen. I'm left standing outside my room with a headache the size of Mount Rushmore. I wonder if Dad's newfound confidence also came with a resilience to no longer pay attention to his kids. Whatever.

Mom's wailing seems to subside and I think she might be sleeping. I think of the Lorraine from thirty years ago, pretty and young without a care in the world. I don't like seeing mom like this now, but I don't know what to do about it either. I walk away from my room towards the kitchen and face plant into the couch. I hear Dad fumbling with a teapot nearby.

There is a moment of silence before Dad asks kindly "How much sugar?"

"No sugar." I tell the couch. Dad pours a cup for me, and adds sugar to it anyway since he knows I'll complain if he doesn't. He takes the seat in the armchair next to me.

"I'm worried about you Marty." He says, and takes a sip of his sugar with tea. Thanks, Dad. I'm worried about me too. You know, after all those murders I've committed and the babies I've eaten.

"Why?" I say instead, and reach an arm out to grab my cup. "Shouldn't you be worried about Mom? I mean, she is the one crying and all." Dad doesn't say anything for a minute. I sit up, just letting the drink warm up my fingers.

"That's just it." He says seriously and stares at me. "Why aren't you upset?"

"What do I have to be upset about? I've got a band and a girlfriend." I say with a bashful smile. Dad lowers his drink to the table. "Is this what you love, Marty?" I feel the smile slide off my face.

"Well, yeah. And you guys of course…Dave, Linda…" Dad shakes his head solemnly. I shift the mug around in my hands.

"What did you love about us Marty?" Dad says, and I somehow think he's looking through me rather than at me.

"Did?" Dad doesn't say anything. I think I might be sweating.

"Um, well there's a bunch of things Dad. I like, you know…" I stop suddenly, realizing that anything I say might never have even occurred in this dimension.

"I'm glad you write." I say stupidly, but it's the only thing I can be sure of in this timeline. The man is completely different from the George McFly I knew. Right down to his shampoo.

Dad nods, and beckons me to continue. "I'm really glad mom's not an alcoholic, Dave has a job, and Linda isn't whining about dates." Dad smiles, though it looks forlorn and lost.

"Me too." He says. "Your mother and I love you very much Marty. If you ever want to talk to us about anything, you just have to ask." I swallow (my throat feels dry), and nod.

"Okay."

Dad abandons his chair, bringing his mug to rest on the kitchen counter. "And Happy Birthday Marty." He says, "If you'd like to go out to dinner tonight we could—"

"It's not my birthday." I interrupt him as if he's crazy. "It's only November 2nd. I'm a summer baby, remember?" I raise my eyebrow at him impatiently. Could he really have mixed me up with Dave again?

Dad turns around with a blank look.

"Marty," He says, expression unreadable. "You've always been born in November." I wonder if he's playing a joke on me, but his eyes aren't lying as they analyze my face. It's only then that I realize that my birthday could have changed in this alter 1985. Dad walks up to me and puts his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look at him.

"What happened to you?" He whispers. I feel myself freeze up.

Shit.


	2. A Boy Without A Memory

**Chapter 2 – A Boy Without a Memory**

Saturday, November 2nd, 1985

McFly Residence

12:47 P.M.

"It was Doctor Brown, wasn't it?" Dad says, and I'm in such a panic I don't know what to say. He draws his hands back and begins pacing around the room. "I knew he was no good… All these wild stories about him torturing animals with his crackpot inventions… I should have listened to them." I want to say something, but I'm sputtering for the right words. "And now he's experimented on Marty." Dad mutters to himself and runs a hand through his hair looking furious.

"Dad, it's not like that!" I finally find my voice to shout, but Dad just sits back down beside me and takes my hands in his.

"It's quite alright, Marty. Everything's going to be fine. You've just got to tell me what that man's done to you." I feel my mouth hanging open.

"He hasn't done anything to me!" I insist, prying Dad's fingers away and standing up. "Jesus Christ, we've known Doc for forever. You know he would never do anything like that to me." I'm shouting by now, but I don't really care since Dad's being a complete idiot.

"Marty, calm down…"

"I will not calm down until you take that back!" I can almost see the thoughts going through Dad's mind. He's read so many science fiction stories where aliens can alter human perception, and I knew Doc was looking like a little green man to Dad now.

"It's the only reasonable explanation!" Dad shouts, making me flinch. I've never heard Dad shout before. Ever. "Marty you don't even know your own birthday for Chrissake!" Dad's standing up now too. "You don't talk to your mother or me anymore. In fact, you don't talk to anyone in this family!" God, if he's expecting me to break down and admit Doc's been mind-raping me, he's got another thing coming.

"I've just been under a lot of stress, alright?" I say, and it's not a total lie. Time-traveling can really take it out of a person. "I'm sure if I just relax a little I'll be fine…" I can't tell if Dad wants to hug me or hit me.

"Are you being harassed at school?" He says. Oh jeez.

"No, Dad."

"Marty, I worry. It's my job as a parent." He says and sits back down again, rubbing his forehead. "I know I was picked on a lot in school. I just want to make sure you're safe."

"Dad. No offence, but I don't think I was anything like you in high school." I lean against the wall moodily. Dad laughs for a moment.

"Don't be so sure. I know you still haven't sent that demo tape in."

"That's because it's not good enough."

"It's perfect, Marty. You've fine-tuned that thing a hundred times." I'm rolling my eyes by now. "Don't be so scared of sending it in. It's good and you know it is. Take this chance, alright?" I can't help but stare at him. Who would have thought I'd see the day when my Dad was telling _me _to take a risk?

"Right. Well, I'll go do that now then." I say. I wonder if the alter Marty was more like Dad than I am. I'm about to leave the room when Dad touches my wrist.

"Listen. If Doc's done anything to you, you let me know about it." I want to scream at him again, but he looks so sincere.

"He hasn't done anything." I say glaring. "He's my best friend." I add, and walk out of the house.

"That's what I'm afraid of." I catch Dad whispering as the door swings shut behind me.

* * *

"My father thinks you're experimenting on me!" I say in a rage as I enter back into Doc's garage. Doc rolls out from underneath the Delorean, and I wonder how long he's going to be working on that thing. "That bastard actually thinks you would hurt me! Christ --That's just fucking ridiculous." Doc sits up, giving me a quizzical look behind his goggles. 

"That does seem implausible. Why would your father bring this up out of the blue?"

"Implausible!" I say angrily. "It's impossible! And well… it wasn't really out of the blue I guess." Doc eyes me curiously and I launch into the bizarre story of my crying mother and Dad's worrying charade. Doc takes a moment to gather his thoughts when I'm finished.

"I understand your concerns, Marty, but I still believe there is no way they would have figured out the truth." I look at Doc hopelessly.

"Then what was that all about?"

"You're not the Marty from this dimension." Doc says simply. "I suspected something like this may occur, though I never expected the differences between you two to be so drastic your parents would notice."

"Listen, I don't think it's that, Doc." I say, waving an arm. "It's just…well." Doc nods, encouraging me to continue. "I don't have any memories to share with these people." I finish lamely.

"So they've been trying to have discussions with you about a past you can't recall?" Doc questions.

"Actually, um, no." I'm feeling silly now.

"Well then why would your father wish to confront you?" Doc tries again.

"I guess…because I've been avoiding them." Doc raises his eyebrows. "See I was worried that they would ask me something I couldn't answer, so I haven't been talking to them much… at all."

"Marty!" Docs says in exasperation. "Do you realize that by avoiding your family you've given them ample reason to suspect something is wrong with you?"

"Well I do now, Doc." I say numbly. Doc shakes his head like an irritated dog.

"Alright. What's done is done. What you can do now, Marty, is research." Ah…Right. Research. "I'm sure your memories are not so drastically different from your family's now."

"My father doesn't even use the same shampoo anymore." I say deadpan. Doc looks slightly concerned.

"Never mind that. How about you just rummage through a few old photo albums? Maybe take a look at the things your family treasures most. Ask your siblings about some stories when you were little. That sort of thing." I nod, wishing I could write this down for future reference. "And most importantly Marty; don't be a stranger to them. You never were before, so don't be now."

"Easier said than done, Doc." I say, but he merely gives me a thumbs up.

"If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything." I feel myself smiling. Right.


	3. There's Something About Marty

**Chapter 3 – There's Something about Marty**

Sunday, November 3nd, 1985

McFly Residence

8:55 A.M.

I apologized to Dad when I got home yesterday, and asked if we could go out to dinner. I didn't want to, but it seemed to make him feel a little better. The whole family came. Mom was still upset, and I spent most of the night talking with Linda about her boyfriend Greg. Dave was zoning out almost the whole time, but Dad occasionally chimed up about the restaurant's good service. It was awkward, though I suppose it's good I'm used to that.

So I guess I'm eighteen now. But not really. I won't be eighteen until June. I suppose Doc and I will have our own celebration then. It's fine with me actually. I just sort of wish my family knew that.

It's almost nine o'clock now, and I've been waiting since seven for my parents to leave. They usually play tennis Sunday mornings, but they haven't budged an inch. Dave went in for extra work. I think I'll conduct some of this research in his room. I'm such a younger brother.

I step inside, feeling like James Bond as the door creaks slowly open and I stare. His room is spotless, completely opposite the Dave who unabashedly hung Playboy model posters from all over the walls and ceiling. Weird. I decide to go through his desk drawers first…calculator, baseball cards, past report cards (Hah! He's still an idiot.), and a bag of some sort. I pull it out examining the contents. Why the hell does Dave keep powered sugar in his drawers?

"Marty, your mom and I are going out for a while. We'll be back around four." Dad calls from the hallway.

"Okay, Dad." I shout back, and move the pouch to my other hand.

"Listen when Dave comes back would you mind…" Dad stops, spotting me inside Dave's room with a little scowl. He opens the door, "Mind telling him that we're… what is that?" He stares at the white contents in my hand.

"Yeah, I don't know. I found it in the drawer." I say with a shrug. Dad walks over and examines the powder with skepticism. I watch his face change from curious to a mad furry to a sudden dawning of realization.

"Oh my God…Marty so this, this is why you don't remember…you…oh, Marty." Dad stares at me with wide eyes and disbelief. I raise my eyebrows at him. "What? Hey Dad, are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" He asks, then louder, "Am I OKAY? Marty! I'm not the one taking COCAINE." He shouts, snatching the substance away from my hand. Coke?

"Oh Jesus, that's coke?" I say stupidly. "Hey, I wasn't taking that stuff! I found it in Dave's room! See look he probably has more." I throw open a drawer hurriedly to find nothing but note cards and stencils. Dad shakes his head solemnly.

"Marty, don't lie. This is serious. If you're doing drugs…Oh God," He takes a breath, "Lorraine!" he shouts, and I feel myself begin to panic.

"Hey wait Dad, this isn't what it looks like. I'm not kidding, this is seriously Dave's." Dad looks as if the world has let him down, and mom enters looking a bit frantic.

"Yes, George, what is it? The Templeton's are waiting on us…" Mom says, and frowns as Dad approaches her with the bag.

"This." He says and thrusts the pouch towards her. She lets out a little scream, and turns to me with tears forming in her eyes.

"Marty…why? Haven't we been good parents to you?" She says pathetically. I reach out to her.

"Mom, yes of course you have, that's not mine…I found it in Dave's room." I say sincerely and Mom erupts into a fresh wave of sobs. Dad stares disbelievingly at me, and I can almost see his thoughts: Dave, the young man with a good job and clean room, or Marty the almost high school dropout rocker with the swimsuit model calendar? God, even I can see how screwed I am.

"Marty…I think you should get some help." Dad says, and puts an arm around mom comfortingly. "I'm going to call the local psychologist to see if we can book a few sessions."

"Dad, for the last time, I'm not doing coke! I-I didn't even know what that stuff was!" Dad looks at me sadly.

"It's for your own good, Marty. If you're addicted…it's got to stop. Right now." He abandons mom, taking the bag outside to throw in the garbage.

"Dad you're being unreasonable, I'm not…"

"MARTIN SEAMUS MCFLY, I'm TRYING to protect my family. Is that so unreasonable?" He says and I flinch.

"No, but you just don't understand I wasn't…Dave was—"

"Don't use your brother as an excuse Marty!" Mom says as she dabs at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve, "Oh call the Templeton's honey, we're not going to make it…" Dad breathes heavily, staring at me.

"We're not letting you pull this family apart." He says, and steers Mom gently towards the doorway. He pauses under the doorframe.

"Wait in your room." He says darkly, and directs Mom towards the kitchen. I'm left dazed and speechless, before blindly walking towards my bedroom. I shut the door hard and sit on my bed wondering how many different ways I'm going to kill Dave when he gets back.

* * *

I wake up on my stomach, face pressed against my pillow and an arm behind my back. I roll over slowly, blinking back some blurriness to stare at my clock. 11:45 it says. No wait, the clock doesn't talk. I sit up with a jerk and Dave puts a hand on my chest. 

"Woah, slow down there. It's just me." He says with a smirk. I scoot back irritated and he takes his hand away.

"Did you tell them?" I ask. "That I'm not the goddamn coke addict?" Dave looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Now why would I want to do that?" He says with a raise of his eyebrows. "Sorry little brother, I've got a promotion at work coming up and there's no way Mom and Dad can find out about this. Keep the secret a little longer, okay?" He stands up to brush imaginary dirt form his pants and I'm seeing red.

"You complete bastard." I say, gritting my teeth. I charge at him, pulling my fist back to punch him in the face. Before my first makes contact, he's looming over me and twisting my arm back. I'm not even facing him anymore.

"So rash," he says, tsking quietly as I struggle to break free. Fuck him, and fuck tall people… basically, "Fuck you." I snarl. He shrugs and pushes me back on the bed.

"Nothing you can really do about it anyway, kiddo." He says. "Shouldn't have been snooping around my room in the first place, huh? That's what you get." I turn around, shouting at him.

"Going in your room without permission is NOWHERE near the level of letting me take the heap for your _coke snorting_." Dave narrows his eyes at me.

"It is today." He says, and leaves the room. I stare hopelessly at the door in front of me. That's it, I think frantically, I've got to see Doc.


	4. And How Does That Make You Feel?

**Chapter 4 – And How Does That Make You Feel? **

Sunday, November 3nd, 1985

Doc's Garage

12:00 P.M.

"Doc? Doc, Where are ya? We've gotta talk." I call, entering the garage with no pretense of tranquility. Doc pops his head in from the backdoor, and just his concern makes me calm down a little.

"Marty? What in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton is it?" He asks, coming in wearing his bathrobe and slippers. Doc must have slept in after working on the Delorean all night, and I feel slightly guilty for getting him up.

"God, Doc… my family, me, cocaine…_Jesus_, everything." I say and lean against the wall, sliding to the ground hopelessly. Doc comes over to me and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Here, let's go inside, it's a little too cold to be out here to talk." He says gently, and offers me his hand. I take it, pulling myself up and he drapes the arm around my shoulders. We step inside and Doc flicks the light on, heading towards the tiny kitchen. Doc's whole house is really small actually. I'm pretty sure he only bought it for the huge garage. Well, at least he's made good use of it.

"Marty, here, have a seat. I'm making breakfast. Well, lunch technically, but breakfast foods." He says and presses a small button by the fridge. I watch carefully as a nearby machine breaks eggs into a preheating pan and a timer starts. I guess he moved that thing inside after all. Doc looks at me and smiles, "Einy kept getting into it when it was in the garage." I try to smile back, but I feel it falter and fade quickly. Doc looks concerned again, and he takes a seat on the stool opposite me.

"Listen, Marty. You can talk to me about anything, no matter how…ah, heavy. What's on your mind?" He asks, almost like a plead. I swallow and launch into the story of my failed research attempt, finding Dave's cocaine, and Mom and Dad thinking it was me.

"And worst of all!" I say, my voice rising slightly, "I talked to Dave just thirty minutes ago and he's letting ME take the blame cause he's in line for a promotion." I laugh helplessly. Doc finishes his eggs and gives my hand a squeeze.

"Alright. I think I understand the situation, though it does seem unlikely your parents would suspect you of hoarding this illegal drug. I would assume they know you better than that."

"God, I thought they did. At least better than how I know them now." I run a hand through my hair, mimicking the frustrated gesture I've picked up from Doc. "It doesn't make sense."

"Would you like for me to speak with them?" Doc offers. I laugh hollowly.

"No, Doc, remember? They think you've brainwashed me or something. They're hardly going to believe anything you say. I'm sorry." I add pitifully. I remember my parents used to love Doc's company. Well, back then.

"No…no it's quite all right. Nothing to be done about it then." He says, waving it off with his hand. I sigh, tugging sharply at my hair.

"The only way I see out of this is by communication." Doc says, before I interrupt him with a, "What do you think I've been doing, Doc?" but he keeps going. "Yes, but things will have calmed down by the time you get home. Their reaction was perfectly normal initial shock. I'm sure by the time you come home, they'll have thought more seriously about the issue." I force myself to breath evenly.

"God, I hope you're right." I say, feeling forlorn. He gives my hands a firm little shake before standing up to refill his coffee.

"Everything will be just fine, you'll see." He says calmly, and I look up at him with a little smile. Genuine this time.

"Thanks, I hope so." I hop off the stool, stretching a little. "I guess I should head back now, huh?" I ask and Doc nods.

"Yes, I should think so. Do your parents even know you're here?" I shake my head muttering a guilty no. "Great Scott! You better get a move on! If you hurry maybe they won't realize you've left!"

"Alright. See ya, Doc. Thanks for the advice." I say as I head back outside, locating my skateboard and starting the short ride home.

* * *

I am trying to sneak in through my bedroom window when the first thing I hear is, "Where have you been, young man?" and suddenly Dad's got me by the scruff of my jacket. Yes, I am definitely not the coolest person ever. In fact, I'm sure I'm giving Biff a run for his money on the lameness chart right now. 

"Dad!" I say, and he lets go as I turn hurriedly turn around and try not to look too guilty. "I um, I um…I hello?" I say because I can't be sure if he's looking at me or seeing something hideous behind me. He doesn't flinch. Oh goody. No it's just me; public enemy number 1: Bad teenage son.

"You weren't getting more cocaine were you?" He asks suddenly and eyes my jacket with some suspicion. God, that does it.

"Christ, Dad, no I was at Doc's. I told you that was Dave's." He shakes his head slowly, expression morphing back into that pitying gaze.

"We've booked a session for you." He says, either completing disregarding my statement or just choosing to ignore it. "It's in a half an hour. Her name is Dr. Adelson. We need answers Marty, and since you won't talk to us, hopefully you'll talk to her." I feel my jaw drop.

"You're shittin' me." I say stunned. Dad's eyebrows draw together.

"And don't use that kind of language, young man. Your mother and I will be driving you there in a couple minutes. Wait in the car for us or you're in even more trouble than you are now." I stand there sputtering incoherently. What happened to reasonable, _hell_, pushover all around nice guy George Mcfly?

"But…Dad…" I start, but God is there anything really left to say? He looks sternly back at me.

"Go." I trudge disbelievingly towards the car, and, as if I'm in a dream, twenty minutes later I find myself inside an office with a recliner for a seat and dark haired woman sitting across from me with a notepad and heavy-rimmed glasses.

"I'm here by mistake." I say to her in frustration. Dr. Adelson just readjusts her glasses sharply and leans forward a little.

"And how does that make you feel?" She asks. I stare at her blankly, knowing this is going to be the longest and possibly most difficult conversation I will ever experience in my life. I take in a deep breath.

"Angry."


	5. Four Stages to Break the Habit

**Chapter 5 – Four Stages to Break the Habit**

Sunday, November 3nd, 1985

Dr. Sarah Adelson's Office

3:30 P.M.

"Your parents say you've been experiencing some memory loss." Adelson says, flipping through her notes to something scribbled in red. I glower at her, refusing to lie down like some psychologically disturbed child. She stops to look closely at me. "Is this correct?"

"No." I say automatically, and stop. This is ridiculous. I shouldn't even be here. "Listen, Ms. Um,"

"Adelson," She responds curtly. "Sarah Adelson."

"Right. Ms Adelson. Listen, my parents only brought me here because they think I'm doing cocaine. I found a stash of it in my brother's room and they don't believe me when I tell them that it's Dave's."

"Call me Sarah," She says, with a smile, leaving my reasoning unaddressed. Geez, first Dad now this Dr. Adelson? What, am I speaking Swahili?

"I'm fine with Ms. Adelson," I say, irritated she dismissed my comments so quickly. Well, two can play at that game, Missy.

"Now, Martin, when did you start—"

"Marty." I interrupt.

"Marty." She amends, "When did you start doing cocaine?"

"We've been having some nice weather lately haven't we?" I say. She looks mildly pissed off. Hah! See how you like it.

"Marty, would you like me to diagnose you with Attention Deficit Disorder? I'm trying to help." She says sourly. Oh, well when she does _that_ face, she almost looks like she means it. I scowl at her.

"Now, when did you start doing cocaine?" She asks again, trying to switch back to the innocent façade of No-I-do-generally-care-about-you-I'm-just-also-getting-paid-for-this-shit. I'm not falling for it.

"I didn't." She frowns.

"You were forced?" She asks critically. I blanche.

"No! God, I've never done cocaine in my entire life and I never will. No, no thanks. Not interested." She nods as if I've said blue is a nice color and works well with her curtains.

"Marty, you've got to understand. We can't get anywhere if you keep lying to me." She says, speaking to me as if I were a child.

"I'm seventeen, you don't have to talk so simply." I say with a glare.

"Eighteen, I believe. According to the papers." Oh right. This damn alternate timeline. Wait, _really?_

"In that case… I'm legally an adult. I don't have to stay here." Of course now I sound like a child, but I don't give a damn. I stand up, making my way towards the door when Adelson speaks up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She says and I glare at her, daring her why. "You're committing a crime against the law. I'm willing to keep this under wraps only if you come to me under your parents knowledge and supervision." I hesitate.

"I'm not doing coke." I say, letting my hand linger on the doorknob a moment longer.

"Humor me." She says. I think of Dave. I could leave now, we could both be drug tested. They would find out it was him and I would be off the hook…I turn around and sit down again, putting my head in my hands.

"It's complicated," I mutter. I can't let Dave get fired. We need that money. Adelson reaches her hand out, probably to pat my arm sympathetically, but thinks better of it and draws back.

"Alright. That's okay, dear. If you don't want to talk about it, I'm going to go over the four stages of breaking an addiction." I don't say anything, just keep my head bent low.

"Stage One, as I'm sure you're aware you're in, is Resistance to Change," God, somebody shoot me. "It's characterized by feeling dependant on the substance, and unaccepting of alternative lifestyle choices." I snort.

"What is so funny, Mr. Mcfly?"

"Nothing, nothing." I say, looking up with a little smirk. Just sounds like you're trying to convert me to homosexuality, but please do go on. I'm riveted.

"You are doubtful you are in this stage?" She tries again.

"I'm not doing coke. So yes." She looks at me sadly.

"Denial is not a healthy place to be, Marty. Admitting you've got a problem is the first step to recovery." I stare at her for a moment longer before taking a breath. God, Dave, you owe me a fucking house for this.

"Alright, fine. I'm a crazy coke-addicted teenager easily influenced by the media and peer pressure. Happy?" Ironically, Adelson smiles.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" She says with a toothy grin. This woman is an idiot. I bet these sessions cost less than the specials at Burger King. "Back to the stages, then. After Resistance comes Bargaining Attempts. You'll most likely want to take smaller douses of cocaine in exchange for personal self-satisfaction." I nod, feigning some attempts at honest concern. "Then comes Acceptance, followed by Preference. Now these stages are quite tricky when…"I think my eyes might be glassing over, but Adelson doesn't comment, seeing as I'm possibly just playing my part. I give the appropriate nod and grunt whenever she tries to clarify herself.

"Well I feel you've learned a lot in this session, Marty, don't you agree?" I'm thinking about Jennifer and sex.

"Marty?" I really want to write a rock song.

"Marty!" I blink, staring back at Adelson and remembering I'm not with beautiful girlfriend at a Huey Lewis concert. Yeah, far from it.

"Sorry, Ms. Adelson, I…um, was just coming to terms with all the steps you know? This stuff is pretty heavy." I make a concerned face at her and hope she buys it. She pats my hand sympathetically.

"That's quite alright, I understand. You should probably get home now, I'm sure your parents are waiting for you outside. I'm so glad we had this talk." That makes one of us.

"Uh, okay." I get up, and she waves cheerfully as I head towards the door.

"See you on Tuesday, Marty!" I leave as fast as I can. Linda is outside by the Toyota, and Mom and Dad are nowhere in sight. All the better for me anyway. Not that I really want to talk to Linda either, but she's better than walking.

"Hey," She says hesitantly, and I give her a half wave.

"Hi," I say, as I climb into the passenger seat. She gets inside and starts the car, neglecting her seatbelt completely.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," She says, trying in vain to start a conversation with me. I don't say anything, just lean against the window, staring outside as she pulls out of the complex. She glances at me nervously. "Come on Marty, you tell me everything. I know you can't have been doing this for long." I raise my eyebrows. _Since when do I tell her everything?_ I think, but God…remembering what Doc said…. Research. Opportunity! Ugh, _family._

"I'm not doing coke." I say, still looking out the window. I see her nod through the side-mirror, expecting her to come back at me with something nasty like, _"Really? 'Cause it would explain your stunted growth."_

"I believe you. I didn't think you were. It's Dave's, isn't it?" I bang my head against the window as I turn around to look at her.

"You…do? I mean, yeah it…it's Dave's." Hey, who knew alter Linda wasn't an asshole? She smiles at me.

"Yeah, you're a good kid, Marty. You've helped me through a lot. I don't see any reason to doubt you." I feel the corners of my mouth tug into a smile.

"Thanks. That really means a lot to me." I say and lie back in my seat fatigued. Well, I think lazily as I let my eyelids drift close, at least I have one ally in this crazy Mcfly family.


End file.
